


Sugarcoat the Grave

by shini02



Category: Gundam Wing, The Crow: Stairway To Heaven
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shini02/pseuds/shini02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble. They're too angry to be angels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugarcoat the Grave

**Author's Note:**

> Old drabble is old, but I love it. Originally written for cozzybob on LJ a few years ago for a crossover meme.

“What are you?” Solo asks the other dead man – but this dead man is different. He has flesh and bone and blood and maybe even a heart; to say whether it beats again or not is a whole different story.

“I've been trying to figure that out,” he says. “And you? What are you?” he looks the kid up and down, can't help but notice the faint burning smell that just clings to him, like his soul's on fire. Eric Draven has seen a lot in his second time on earth – angels and ghosts and Snakes and other Crows – but never a spirit quite like this kid. He's angry and hateful but at the same time there's a goodness in him that keeps him becoming something truly wretched.

“I don't know, either,” Solo says. He lifts his hands and looks them over. Even in death, his palms are scarred and ravaged. “I know I'm dead. That's about it.”

“That makes two of us.”

“You got any idea what you're doin' here?”

Eric pauses, hesitates, and admits with a bitterness, “to set things right.” He looks at Solo, dark eyes becoming darker for a moment as the thing inside of him, that twisted, horrible creature his soul's become, stirs restlessly. “You?”

Solo looks down to the streets below. “Watchin' somebody. Keepin' an eye on him, y'know? Make sure the kid stays outta trouble.”

Eric smirks. “I know how that can be,” he says and thinks of Sarah, and wonders where she'd be right now if he hadn't come back.

“Draven,” Solo murmurs, quiet all of a sudden, “y'think we're angels o' some kind?”

The older dead-man shakes his head. “Kid, we're too angry to be angels.”


End file.
